She was frail as a petal A dandelion in the wind, Sun scorched and drooping As though a weight Hung from her chin- As though no beam Could ever rise her, And no arms could support That limp and weary frame, A stringless puppet Bowed apart. Others held their places

You sing in hope And waiting sigh With eyes peeled To the sky Clouds rolling in, And would they break With blessings or Will they take? If I sing well Would God not hear And pack grey clouds Full of cheer? A strange surprise, All wrapped in black Might shine

Due to the pain that was worsening in my hands and arms I have been on as much of a writing break as my self control has been able to succeed in. I have of course penned some lines here and there, and this poem was written in fragments, usually

I read this poem probably five years ago and have come back to it many times.  It’s easy to see the loving care of God when He answers our prayers the way we want them to be answered.  Sometimes we pray “Your will be done” but in our hearts we

Where does my contentment lie? In what do I most gather peace? In need of nothing, satisfied From endless craving to find release.